Ficly

Her Land

Her fingers left a trail along the glittering water, like champagne this time of day. The boat glided easily along the tawny shore, its saffron exterior reflecting back the water’s inner glow. The incidental princess leaned back and surveyed what was now hers, her flaxen hair flowing, indistinguishable from the straw lintel upon which she reclined. Her citrine jewels glinted in the light.

The brilliant sun touched every inch of her land, from the endless wheat fields to the dusty caramel hills and beyond, to her gilt palace, gleaming in ethereal majesty. The light coated everything with a delicate, honey sheen.

“Breathtaking,” she whispered, to no one in particular. “I am truly blessed.”

The boat began its course inland, along the river, a ribbon of incandescent light and water leading to what was now her home. It made its way past mustard and ochre dwellings, grazing the lemon trees which flourished across the land.

As she neared the palace, a caged canary sang his sweet song to welcome her home.

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